


Bound

by 12snails



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Blood Kink, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Post-Episode: s06e09 Battle of the Bastards, Ramsay is his own warning, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 04:39:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13240632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/12snails/pseuds/12snails
Summary: After losing the Battle of the Bastards, Ramsay only sees two options--prove his worth or receive a quick death.





	Bound

Ramsay reached up, his fingers coated in dried blood as he tested the metal collar around his neck. Wincing in pain, he tugged at the chain attached to test that too. Both collar and chain were locked tight and attached to the nearby wall—there was no escaping this.

Without eyeing himself in a mirror, Ramsay knew that his face was swollen and also crusted over with dried blood from the fight with Jon. There was truly no escaping this. He was tired, broken, bloodied, and now chained to a wall in the dungeons of Winterfell. Hearing the growling and barking of his hounds nearby, Ramsay _felt_ like one of them.

He closed his eyes as he heard heavy footsteps nearing his cell—or was it a cage at this point? Did the chain and collar qualify him as an animal thus making the cell a _cage_ now? _Something to think about_ , Ramsay silently considered as he opened his eyes to look at the approaching figure.

_Jon Snow. The bastard. Come to gloat?_

Swallowing hard, Ramsay suddenly noticed how dry his mouth and throat were. How many days had he been out cold and went without water?

Jon stood close to the cage and looked down into Ramsay’s icy blue eyes. “Come to gloat, bastard?” It was a stupid remark, considering his position, but Ramsay assumed he was a dead man by now.

Ramsay sat back on his heels, kneeling in the dirt as Jon unlocked his cell quickly. His movements seemed to say he was angered by the comment and yet Jon said nothing. This part did not surprise Ramsay so much—would Jon cut his throat after making him grovel? Or would it be a quick swing of his sword?

Jon grabbed Ramsay’s right arm, yanked it back to his left, quickly binding his wrists with rope. _Now **that** is unexpected_ , Ramsay thought to himself with a sick smirk forming on his face. “What are you getting at, Snow?” Ramsay managed to rasp out, meeting Jon’s eyes again as he stepped back in front of him. “Come to treat me worse than I treated my pretty wife?”

That remark earned Ramsay another blow to the face. “If you’ve come to kill me get on with it already.” Something about spitting up blood onto the dirt floor made Ramsay _wish_ for death—perhaps it was the fact that the blood passing through his mouth _actually_ felt like hydration. Now, Ramsay longed for a quick ending. Something clean.

He closed his eyes for a moment and gazed back up into Jon’s dark ones. “If you think I’ll be killing you this fast, you’re wrong,” Jon said, his voice still raw from the battle.

 _Is that a smile, Lord Bastard?_ Ramsay thought as he fought off another smirk. Instead, he answered, “Then what game will we be playing?”

“Sansa told me all about how you and your hounds. How you’d hunt men with them; intimidate with them. I thought—why not join them? Are you enjoying the cage and collar, _Snow_?” Jon knew how the name irked the other man. The bastard name no longer bothered him—Tyrion had taught him to use it as armor a long time ago, but it was obvious the name bothered Ramsay greatly.

He gritted his teeth as he cast his eyes downward towards the wet patches of dirt in front of him. _Two can play games, bastard,_ Ramsay thought as he swallowed down a little bit of blood from the last strike. “I like it very much. Your sister is correct.”

While the answer threw Jon off guard, it did begin to spark his short temper. He grabbed a fist full of Ramsay’s hair, forcing his head up to look at him again. “Good. Then I will treat you like a dog. You will _earn_ and _beg_ for food and water like a dog. You will live like a dog.”

Jon kept surprising Ramsay. It would have been _exciting_ had he not been in so much pain that he actually longed for death. Ramsay grinned now, showing his bloodstained teeth. “And how shall I _earn_ this, hm?” Despite the show of confidence, Ramsay knew he was losing control of the situation when Jon yanked at his hair. He _had_ to regain some sort of control. He had to _stay_ in the game—

And that was how Ramsay Bolton ended up with his nose nuzzling into the crotch of Jon Snow’s pants, looking up into his eyes. “I’m _very_ good at using my mouth, you know, Lord _Bastard_.”

Almost immediately, Jon let go of Ramsay’s hair and took one step back, as if repulsed.

 _Now is not the time to give up_ , Ramsay thought, suddenly appreciating how convenient it was that Jon’s thick leather armor split at his belly button, allowing for easy access to what lie below. Ramsay scooted himself forward, the collar not gagging him yet. This time, he was quick to place his face back where it was, mouthing at where Jon’s prick would be under his trousers. The cell was so cold that Ramsay knew his hot breath _had_ to feel good there.

It did not come to Ramsay as a surprise when Jon gripped at his hair yet again, and shouted at him, “I thought I told you to—“

“Stop. I know. But you’re enjoying it. Why not take advantage of this situation, Lord Snow?” Ramsay smiled now, feeling a bit of satisfaction at the fact he could feel Jon’s cock perking to life though his breeches. While his head was still in the proper place, he nuzzled at Jon’s crotch again, gasping softly as he felt Jon grind against cheek and jaw. “Come on, Snow. What’s stopping you? Stopping you from using me like I used your lovely siste—“

Ramsay was cut off by yet another punch to his face. He wasn’t quite sure if his face was growing used to being beaten or if he simply didn’t care anymore. Regardless, Ramsay could taste blood in his mouth and feel it dripping from his nose yet again.

When Ramsay lifted his head, however, he found that Jon _could_ still surprise him. The bastard lord was actually reaching down to unfasten his leather armor at the sides, sliding out of it. “Ah…” Ramsay began, the noise dripping with amusement. His smile only returned as Jon unlaced his breeches next.

“You said Sansa was right—that you love your hounds, wished to be treated like one. Fine. We’ll treat you like a bitch then.”

“Good,” Ramsay rasped out, looking up at Jon as he stepped closer. Jon lowered his breeches just enough to expose his cock, shivering a bit at the cold air. It was so cold in the cells that both men could see their breath in the air.

As Ramsay opened his mouth for Jon, he half considered biting his prick off, but knew it was in his own best interests to perhaps show Jon he had some ‘worth.’

Ramsay made sure he looked up at Jon as he took his cock into his mouth, deciding to behave for now. It brought Ramsay small pleasure whenever Jon wouldn't return his gaze; it meant that Jon felt guilty or disgusted at himself that he had stooped so low and yet, here he was.   
  
Jon, assumedly fully hard, surprised Ramsay with his length. The bastard may have taken everything from him, but Ramsay had to admit Jon had a nice cock. Under different circumstances Ramsay could have easily seen himself enjoying many nights riding Jon Snow to keep warm in cold, cold Winterfell. He actually even found himself a bit disappointed at the fact his hands were bound and that he could not properly please his new lord as he’d like.  
  
For now, Ramsay let his eyes fall closed, while he began to bob his head up and down on Jon's length. Even the small movements it took to do this pained Ramsay; he had to have broken some bones in the fight.  
  
When Ramsay pulled his head back and opened his eyes a little, he noticed small stripes of red coating Jon's prick. Smiling to himself, Ramsay went right back to work, sucking harder than before. Blood, from Jon striking him earlier, was mixing with saliva to coat his manhood. A small part of Ramsay hoped Jon would fuck him with it.  
  
"Fuck..." Jon moaned quietly, and Ramsay was shocked he'd actually been able to draw sounds from the other man. It encouraged him, motivating Ramsay to suck harder and slide his head up and down faster. Clearly, that wasn't enough for Jon though.  
  
The new Lord of Winterfell gripped Ramsay's hair yet again and began to actually fuck into his mouth. Ramsay had to fight not coughing as Jon gagged him, but the sudden, aggressive act would have made Ramsay grin if he could.

It wasn’t long before Ramsay could feel Jon starting to come. With each thrust, he drove his come further into Ramsay’s mouth, forcing him to swallow around him or choke. If his hands had not been tied behind his back, Ramsay would have been pleasuring himself by now; yet Ramsay obediently swallowed, looking up at Jon’s face as he watched him reach orgasm. The noises that escaped from Jon’s lips were almost _primal_ and it pleased Ramsay to hear. Perhaps, Jon would find a reason to keep him around after all.

Once he was finished, Jon withdrew his softening cock from Ramsay’s mouth and retied his breeches, looking down at him in disgust. He could see the outline of Ramsay’s erection through his muddied trousers, but today, Ramsay would get no relief. He’d have to _earn_ that later, in time.  

**Author's Note:**

> For now, this is a one-shot. Considering adding a second chapter though! Hope you've enjoyed.


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